


A Bedtime Story for Gotham

by angstrlisity (BJW)



Category: Batman - Fandom, Bruce Wayne - Fandom, DC Comics, Jason Todd - Fandom
Genre: A request, Other, bed time story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7238767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BJW/pseuds/angstrlisity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short slightly poetic and dark AU about the bat boys in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bedtime Story for Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> Requested "a bedtime story" on my tumblr.

They tell me stories of long ago. The war was glory from that time of old. But the days did come when the strong were thinned. And the Batman, one day, did not rise again. 

Blue on black, was his eldest. Pride and joy were his colors. And though years were so tiring, he held to hope for the better. But the fires were still rising, he was a hound to a scent. He rises to the call early, but through the years his hands had been bent. The sounds of wars and it's glory, beneath his feet, felt like sin. They'll never see it coming, but he does it once again; and leaps from the building, like a bird without sin. 

Bold as red and just as strong. His brother came marching along; to where the crimes have overflown. He had always been watching from a far below 'em. He's taming an army, he makes them his own. He's red, hot, and burning. It's red, wet and woe. He's tear-less when rising; though his breast's speared by a foe. When he's cold and he's grievous, none can tell him where to go. Because death is his name, he rose again—what a shame. But like a red phoenix rising, he just keeps on flying. And from the ashes of his crucifix and to a kingdom full of sin. He marches above the thunder, bringing his father's righteous reign of terror. And onward without sunder, rose the red bloody brother. 

The younger bird, the little one, who sits up so high. He watches and holds the keys, to tangible like light. Clicking and tapping are the sounds of his fight. He's small in his cape but his brains are his might. He watches so carefully. He sees every side. Blue on black can be righteous, but bold and red can tame the fight. He carefully considers, though ignored by both brothers. He won't let people die not knowing, so this bird will keep telling. 

But dear Gotham was burning. That venous old fight. She sees you turn old and buried. And she's not scared in the night. Blue on black, is still fighting, though he's wary and old. Bloody brother, so uncaring, they wonder about his soul. But the young bird that was perching, his secrets he had told. But what more are they wanting? Gotham's wasted. Gotham's old.


End file.
